


Internship

by orphan_account



Category: DCU, Justice League, Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: M/M, Non-Consensual, on a desk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-31
Updated: 2013-08-02
Packaged: 2017-12-21 23:20:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/906144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dick Grayson goes under cover at Lex Corp to uncover information about project Kr for the Justice League, but his boss has other ideas.<br/>Chapter one: porn<br/>Chapter two: Barbara forces Dick to talk<br/>Chapter three: Healing begins with cookies and ice cream.<br/>[Set in a time with a young Nightwing, post Jason's-death. Tim has just taken up the cape.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Undercover

Dick Grayson had taken the job as a favor to the League. He'd always been good at undercover missions, and when Superman and Bruce had both come to him, asking if he would help, of course he said yes. They were two of the most influential people in his life, and he wanted to make them proud. Besides, an internship at Lex Corp wasn't exactly a job Bruce Wayne or Clark Kent could fill. A young, twenty-something Dick Grayson, however, was a perfect candidate.

"Didn't want to start at Wayne Enterprises," he had said in his interview. "Might look like the boss was playing favorites," and he'd smiled a well-crafted, charming smile.

However, Lex Luthor really was as much of a genius as he claimed, and even though Dick had gotten the position, it was difficult to do any investigating. He had spent the beginning of the internship trying everything to win Lex over. Arriving an hour early, bringing in coffee every morning, and even cleaning the lobby without being asked.

It paid off. The more he expressed an interest in the workings of Lex Corp, and the more he offered small, menial advice to Lex on daily tasks, then the more Lex brought him in on projects. Dick had felt like it had been going well. Within a month, he'd been granted regular access into Luthor's office--though always under supervision--and he had even started handling the tasks usually managed by a personal assistant. Things like answering the phone, booking appointments, and scheduling lunch meetings wound their way into Dick's list of responsibilities. Which was fantastic. It gave the League full access to Luthor's schedule and who he was meeting with. All Dick had left to do was to find out what project Kr was really all about. And Luthor had kept that well-hidden. It was definitely not for an intern's eyes.

Dick kept a log of everything he did, gave daily reports to the League on every detail of his job, even the things that didn't matter, like how long Luthor spent arranging his books, or what kind of coffee he asked for. Being raised by "The World's Greatest Detective" had taught Dick that nothing was insignificant, and the more information the better.

But there was one part of his internship he kept back from his reports. Because he knew that if he told them, they would abort the mission. And he didn't want to let them down.

It had started a couple months into the assignment, when he was looking over the building plans for Luthor's newest humanitarian project, a water filtration system that operated purely on solar energy. He'd been leaning over the desk, memorizing the blue prints to report to the League. Luthor had stood next to him, which wasn't unusual. Lex had always been invasive of his personal space. Dick accepted it as an intimidation tactic and refused to let it bother him. But this time, Luthor had put his hand on Dick's ass and given it a gentle squeeze.

Neither said anything about it, and Dick had left it out of his report. He had stared at the computer screen for a while that night, wondering if he should include it, and wondering why he felt so conflicted about it. He had decided, in the end, he was making a mountain out of a molehill, and sent the League his report without mention of sexual harassment.

After that, it had escalated. Luthor had taken Dick's silence for acquiescence and continued his advances. It went from ass taps to thigh grips to hands wandering Dick's back while Luthor looked over his work. And then, within another month, Lex had caught him against the door and kissed him.

Dick hadn't reacted. He had kept one hand on the door handle, the other on the binder in his hand, and his body perfectly still.

"Dick," Luthor had said before he could walk out, "just say something if you're not okay with this."

Dick had hesitated. He had realized this was a tipping point. He could say no, and Luthor would likely stop everything. But he would lose everything he'd worked for. It would make the last few months a waste of his time and the League's. So he said, quietly, trying to disguise his reluctance as shyness, "It's fine."

"Don't think I'll play favorites. I still expect your best work."

With effort and strength Dick didn't know he had, he had straightened his posture into one with confidence, and smiled the charming smile that had won him the job in the first place. "I'd expect nothing else. Have a good night, Mr. Luthor." 

And when had he typed his report to the League that night, he only said, "I think he's finally starting to trust me. I should have the project in a few weeks."

And, a few weeks later, he finally had his eyes on the thumb drive labeled "Kr," safely attached to Luthor's briefcase, visible only because Luthor had him bent over the desk and was slowly pulling off his suit jacket from behind.

Dick had done everything he could to avoid this. He'd gotten on his knees, satisfied Luthor in every way he could without this. But now that he knew where the files were, now that he was so close to victory, he couldn't stop, not even as Lex Luthor pulled off his briefs and slipped his hand gently over the curve of his bare ass cheeks.

Luthor straightened, and with a voice that seemed to know and relish just how uncomfortable Dick was, said, "I want to see those beautiful blue eyes of yours."

Dick complied, and did everything he could to look interested, to look like he was anticipating this, like it was a good anxious and not a worried anxious. Luthor brushed his dark bangs out of his face, smiled, and undid the buttons on his powder blue dress shirt.

It was always this way: Dick, stark naked and Luthor, fully clothed. Even for a blow job, Luthor undressed Dick slowly, tenderly, and touched his skin, but when Dick went to return the favor, Luthor guided him to the belt buckle, let him undo the pants, just enough to expose hard genitalia, as bald as its owner, but never any more than that.

Dick knew it was a power play. It was an assertion of ownership in a way, and it made Dick sick in his stomach, partly because being vulnerable before power was always unnerving, but also because it made him worry that Luthor knew more than he was letting on, that he somehow knew Dick was there for more than job experience, and that he was holding back out of suspicion.

But now Dick had to prove he was there for nothing but Luthor. He shrugged his way out of his shirt and locked his ankles behind Luthor's neck.

"If I'd known you were this flexible, I'd have done this sooner."

"I do have an acrobatic history."

"Now there's something I'd love to see. Top drawer on the left."

Dick reached his hand around the desk, and without looking, fumbled through the drawer for a bottle of lube. He hoped he didn't grab the peppermint one that Luthor had gotten fond of for blow jobs. Something about liking the cold spice aftertaste on Dick's lips. Dick had a suspicion that particular flavor would sting for something like this.

He passed off the bottle and tipped his head back, let it hang off the desk. He was determined to get through this, and when it was over he could snatch the flash drive. He felt the tension in every muscle, senses heightened by adrenaline and caffeine. He tried to close his eyes and relax. He could let this whole event pass by without being mentally present.

"Dick, I want you to look at me."

With a knot in his stomach, Dick pushed himself up onto his elbows and looked Lex Luthor in the eye. He pushed down every ounce of fear and reluctance and self-worth. It felt like he was tearing a hole in his chest, but he smiled. He smiled like this was something he'd been waiting for his whole life, and it worked, because Luthor smiled back.

"I know it's your first time, so I promise to go slow."

"Go as fast as you like," he said automatically, wishing more for it to be over than anything else.

Dick thought for a moment something sinister flickered in Luthor's face, but, real or imagined, it was gone. And Dick promptly forgot about it, because he felt Luthor's middle finger slide into the tight space between his legs. It was smooth, slick, and then he felt the sensation of cold metal against his sensitive opening. Luthor hadn't taken off his rings.

Dick inhaled sharply and tipped his head back. He clenched his hands into fists as Luthor's finger went in and out of him. His breath hitched every time the cold metal brushed skin that was so unused to any sensation at all.

"Dick," Luthor said calmly, but with authority that expected obedience, "Look at me."

Dick slowly pulled his head back up, taking time to collect his thoughts, reapply his mask. He kept his eyes locked with Luthor's until Luthor added a second finger. He grimaced as the added thickness painfully pushed his skin apart. The lube could only do so much to ease it.

And then, as Luthor split his fingers, stretching Dick, running his fingers along the walls inside, Dick felt something he didn't expect: genuine pleasure, that flooded from his brain with an effect like all sex hormones. He gasped in shock and his eyes shot back open.

Luthor looked satisfied. "Keep your eyes open."

Dick felt forced to watch Luthor's self-satisfied smirk as his body was invaded and reluctantly pleasured. Luthor had found something inside Dick he didn't even know he had, and as sick as he was in his stomach, he couldn't keep the physical need from his mouth. He was panting without even forcing it.

And then Luthor added another finger. Dick tipped his head back at first, gritted his teeth again. But when Luthor cleared his throat, Dick knew he was in trouble. He pulled his head up and looked Luthor in the eye again. It was harder. It was almost like the conflict between pain and pleasure made him want to burst from the inside out. The satisfaction on Luthor's face made it worse. 

Dick felt like Luthor could read his mind and he didn't have any defenses left to put up. Not when his body was too busy telling him how good the heat between his legs felt, but his brain was trying to warn him his mission was a complete failure. He couldn't even consider what his expression was or how to properly compose it.

"Dick, I'm going all in. You're dilated enough. It will still hurt, just less. Ready?"

Dick nodded and tried not to swallow the lump in his throat. His chest heaved in anticipation, as much in preparedness for the pleasure as in fear of the pain.

"Keep your eyes on me."

His chest tightened, but he nodded.

Luthor put one hand on Dick's hips. Dick tightened his hands around the edge of the desk.

Luthor didn't go in far at first, just enough for Dick to grit his teeth and take in a deep breath. It took most of Dick's concentration not to turn his head or close his eyes. He kept them locked on Luthor's, fully aware that every expression that crossed his face was under scrutiny.

"Good," Luthor said as he pulled out, then pushed in a little farther.

Dick felt his insides tear and he bit down on his tongue to hold in a yell. His body trembled with tension, but he didn't let his gaze wander.

In, and out. Each time the smallest bit farther in. Each push and pull timed to Dick's inhale and exhale. Dick's breaths turned to gasps and gasps turned to moans. He couldn't help it. His body was, on some level, nearing euphoria, and it was threatening to take all of him with it. He knew he must look exactly like Luthor wanted him to: vulnerable, needy, pleasured despite pain, and begging for more. He could tell his bangs were clinging to his face with sweat now, but he still didn't look away.

He watched Luthor, who looked like there was no effort to this at all. Dick knew that look in Luthor's eyes. It was one of triumph.

Luthor's hips slammed against his, and Dick nearly slid off the desk from the force of it. He took in a breath so big, so quick, he thought he could burst a lung. His mouth gaped open and he heaved like a fish out of water. His whole body shuddered as tension built up and released. 

And the whole time, he never broke eye contact.

He came right then, all over Luthor's suit.

"Dammit, Grayson." And Luthor pulled out of him, examined at the mess all over his jacket.

"I--I'm sorry," Dick stammered. "I didn't even realize."

"I should make you lick it off, to teach you to control yourself better."

Dick pushed himself up so he was sitting on the edge of the desk. "If you want," he said simply, but he could hear the reluctance in his own voice. Obviously, Luthor heard it too.

"No, no. Just stay there while I clean this up."

And Luthor left the office. Dick was so shocked that it had been that easy he almost panicked. He should have done that a month ago, if that was all it took to get alone in Luthor's office.

Dick knew he didn't have a lot of time. He dug through his pants for his own thumb drive and then snagged the Kr drive from Luthor's briefcase. He plugged them both into Luthor's desktop and copied everything from Kr to his personal drive. It took a full three minutes. Dick drummed his fingers against the desk anxiously, eyes flicking between the door and the computer screen. He wished desperately for a lookout, or something to give him warning when Luthor would be coming back.

However, the copying completed before he heard any sign of Luthor. He had drive Kr back in the briefcase and his own drive back in his pants pocket in the nick of time. Luthor caught him with his pants in his hands.

"Leaving?" Luthor looked displeased.

"You were taking a while, so I--"

"I wasn't gone ten minutes. Sit back down."

Dick dropped his pants and obediently took a seat back on the desk. He spread his legs and laid back as Luthor stood over him.

"Eyes on me, Dick," he said, and thrust his cock all the way in.

Dick gritted his teeth and gripped the desk. But he kept eye contact with Luthor, and carefully swallowed all of his own feelings of victory. He instead channeled his new determination into faking pleasure. He moaned with every push and bit tighter on his lip with every pull. He knew he was sore, bleeding, and completely fucked, but he had won. He had what he came for. And the last thing he needed was to let Luthor know that.

Luthor came in one final thrust. Dick felt it rush along his insides, and squeeze through the cracks and tears on the inside of his skin. He finally let his head fall back and he closed his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it. Critique is always appreciated. It's inconsequential to the main story of the undercover mission, but there is an epilogue with Barbara and Tim where they talk to Dick about what happened. I'll post it soon.


	2. Determination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Babs forces a confession.

Dick walked in the door of the manor quietly. He had half a mind to leave the flash drive on the desk in the Batcave with a note attached, but that would hardly be appropriate. He really ought to hand it to Bruce directly. He swallowed hard and walked into the library. He reached for the bust, but the bookcase slid back on its own.

Timothy Drake stepped out, and looked just as surprised to see Dick as Dick was to see him. Tim even blushed and could hardly get his words out.

He'd met the new kid only once before, but they'd hardly spoken. Bruce had mentioned that Tim was a fan of the Flying Graysons. Dick just didn't expect the boy to blush like a bride-to-be.

"When you get over the novelty of it, I'm just like anyone else," he said, and even laughed a little.

His voice seemed to sober Tim up a bit. 

"Sorry," the young teenager apologized.

"Is Bruce around?"

"N-no. He's at the office today. Alfred should--"

"I'm avoiding Alfred." Dick was pretty sure after raising Bruce, and then him, and then Jason, Alfred had developed something of a mother's intuition. Alfred would ask all the right questions and Dick would have all the wrong answers. It was a situation he decided he'd better not get into.

But he couldn't leave the project files with Tim. The kid was young, untested, and this was a League job, not a Batman job. So instead he asked, "Is Barb around?"

"She's in the cave, yeah. We were just training. Hey, you wouldn't mind, sometime, would you?"

Dick looked Tim over. The kid was physically fit, and taller than he had been when he started as Robin. He could tell from Tim's stance that he was alert, and from the way his eyes searched the room and Dick's face, this kid really was a talented detective that had uncovered the secret identity of Batman. Alright, so he had potential.

"Maybe, yeah." He smiled with the corner of his mouth and stepped behind the bookcase. He didn't expect Tim to follow him.

"Is everything okay?" Tim asked as the elevator lowered them into the underground caverns.

Dick ignored the question. He was suddenly less impressed with this kid's detective work. Maybe he should've taken his chances with Alfred.

The elevator let them out in the cave. Dick walked over to the computer and plugged the flash drive in, deciding he might as well copy the files himself.

He looked over to the sparring ring. Barbara was just coming out of the small shower room that had been added when she joined. Even though Bruce had put it in for her, Dick had ended up making more use out of it when they were kids. He used to spend a lot of time fixing his hair in the mirror before going out on patrol, much to Batman's irritation.

Barbara was drying her red hair with a towel and looked surprised to see him, but she smiled and waved. Tim waved back.

Barbara came over and looked over the computer screen. "What's Project Krypton?"

"No, Kr isn't--" Dick hadn't actually made the connection between the atomic symbol for Krypton and the name of the project. "Anyway, it's Justice League stuff."

"All the more reason to see it," she laughed and pushed him out of the chair. 

"Come on, Babs, not in front of the new kid."

She turned around to look at the boy behind her. "Tim, weren't you were going home?"

"Not if you're going to look up top secret Justice League files I'm not."

"Good kid. See, Dick, he's cool. He won't rat." She clicked on the first file on the drive. "Besides, if you're going to be a messenger for the League, you might as well know what you're delivering."

"Just get out of the chair, please."

"No way. I love this chair." She swung her feet up over the arm rest and leaned back comfortably. Then she squinted at the screen. "Can you hand me those glasses, there, Dick?"

Dick picked up the glasses she was pointing to. "You need glasses?"

"For reading."

"You're not even thirty."

"I've been wearing them since I was twelve. Hand them over."

Dick extended them to her and she snatched them right out of his hand. He watched her as she skimmed through the file, though she didn't seem very interested in it.

"Dick, what's wrong?" she finally asked.

Well, fuck having a family of detectives.

"I'm fine," he lied.

"You gave me my glasses."

"You asked for them."

"Usual Dick Grayson would have run around the cave doing damn summersalts until I caught him and pinned him before he gave my glasses back. What's got you so somber?"

"Maybe I'm just self-conscious in front of the new kid." Dick smiled at Tim, hoping it was one of his more disarming, charming sorts of smiles.

"Self-conscious and Dick Grayson are not two words that go together." She waited for his answer, but kept her eyes on the screen. She was a far better multi-tasker than Dick had ever given her credit for.

"Guess the job is just stressful. I've been interning for what, three, four months now?"

"Three months, three weeks, and six days." She looked at him and smiled. "I miss having you on patrol. Bats is boring without your quips and terrible puns. Maybe teach the newbie some knock knock jokes."

"Knock knock jokes are pretty lame," Tim said.

"See what I mean? Everyone's a bore. When's your job done?"

"Well, now. I've got the project info here."

"Great!"

"But it's undercover. I have to phase out. I can't just drop the job and go. That's really obvious."

"Ugh. Well, it's Saturday. Come out with us tonight."

"I should get back to Metropolis in case Lex calls."

"Lex?"

"Yeah, you know, Lex Luthor, the bald guy who gets away with trying to take over the world every week?"

"Yeah, I know who you mean, but since when do you call him Lex?"

Dick folded his arms over his chest and shrugged. "Since he asked me to."

Barbara was giving him a look that made him uncomfortable. He needed to meet her eyes to convince her he wasn't lying, but he knew that the minute they made eye contact, she'd know he was lying. There was no winning this.

"Have you talked to Bruce about it?" she asked.

"What 'it'? There's no 'it' to talk about. Whatever. Files are on the computer, so I'm out. I have to carefully plan and time my resignation from Lex Corp, or maybe get myself fired. I'll see you in a couple months." He could tell he was starting to get defensive, but he couldn't stop himself.

He started for the elevator, but Babara caught his wrist. It would have been easy to get away. He was a trained martial artist--then again, so was she.

"Let's walk somewhere."

Dick nodded reluctantly. She didn't take her hand off of his wrist as she led him out of the Batcave, leaving Tim behind. They wandered through the vast mansion, not talking, just holding hands. Dick could tell by her grip it was really to keep him from bolting than out of any sort of romantic intentions. Barbara was as stubborn as Bruce when it came to things like this. It would take every tactic he had to get her to feel at ease again.

"The new kid seems nice," he tried. Talking about anything other than his feelings was a good start.

"He's great, actually. Smart. Quick learner. Way more level-headed than we ever were."

"Sounds like a good fit."

"He adores you. You should spend more time with him. Maybe then he'll finally realize what a big dork you are."

Dick laughed and glanced around the hall. All the decor was covered in sheets, to protect it from sunlight and dust. Was Babs taking him somewhere or just walking aimlessly?

"Dick, talk to me about the mission you're on."

Surely there was something else interesting to say. "It's League stuff," he shrugged. "When's Bruce coming back?"

"Dinner, I guess. In time for patrol at the latest. You could stay for dinner. Celebrate the completion of your mission."

"I should be getting back."

"Why? You're an intern. Not Luthor's personal assistant."

"I might as well be. I do all his appointment booking now, answer all his calls."

"Well I hope it's at least a paid internship."

Dick tried to laugh, but he couldn't help feeling uncomfortable. If Luthor did start paying him, it would suddenly feel less like an internship and more like prostitution. The awkward laugh was his downfall.

Barbara stopped walking. "What is it?"

He didn't say anything. She squeezed his hand, but it was far less encouraging and a lot more demanding.

"You're not yourself today. And if it's today, and it's just a bad day, and you don't want to talk about it, that's fine. Say so. But Dick, if something's wrong, and I mean really wrong, you should tell me. We're still best friends, aren't we?"

Dick almost felt like he could tell her. She was his sister in a lot of ways, and they'd even dated as teenagers. Of course, that was before he met Kori. But now that had all gone south and he couldn't deny there was still some kind of chemistry here, between him and Babs. He trusted her with his life--he had to, they were partners. But he knew that when it came down to it, he also trusted her with his heart, which was more than could be said about a lot of people in his life.

Despite all that, or maybe because of all that, he couldn't tell her. He couldn't find the words, either. How would that conversation even go? "Oh, you know, I just had sex with my boss." There was no right way to say that.

So he just answered, "Of course we're still best friends." Who else had been there for him when Jason died? Certainly not emotionally-detached Bruce. Sure, he had the Titans, but it's hard to grieve with people who don't know what you've lost. Babs knew. She understood. And he knew she had his back on any assignment, could get him out of a jam if he needed it, and trusted him to do the same for her.

He looked at her, and he felt everything in his chest compress. He saw all the things he expected to see--concern, frustration, affection--and one thing he didn't expect to see. Betrayal. Because by not telling her, he was, in an indirect way, breaking that trust they had built over the years.

So he swallowed the lump in his throat and groped for an easy way to say it. "Luthor... Well, he's an affectionate boss. And not in the gift-baskets and coffee sort of way."

The way Babs face didn't change told Dick she was thinking one of two things: He was hiding something else, or she didn't believe him.

"Did you tell Bruce?" she asked.

"I didn't want him to worry."

"It's definitely something to worry about. I mean, if you don't want to blow the mission, you could at least report it to HR, or something. That's what interns are supposed to do. You need to make it stop before it gets worse. It's not--" She broke off suddenly.

Dick wished he hadn't chosen to be vulnerable. He had let his guard down, and accidentally expressed something honest. A real fear.

"It's already worse," Babs realized.

Dick nodded and tried to pull his hand away, but she wouldn't let go. He wished she would. He didn't want to drag her down into all his buried emotions. And yet somehow, he was also grateful, because having her there was like an anchor, something that kept him grounded in reality and, more importantly, as she had done for so many years, kept him from feeling alone.

"You need to tell Bruce," she said. "He'll pull you out. The League can't expect--"

"That's why I can't tell him. The mission would've been a failure, and I didn't want to let that happen."

"That's wrong. It's okay to need to be pulled out--"

"We put our lives on the line every day. Fight criminals, mad men, dodge bullets, run into burning buildings. It's the same thing."

"It's not! There are other options--"

"Anything you can say, I've already thought of. I've had this argument a dozen times, and the best option was to stay."

But she shook her head. "That's wrong. Dick--it's rape. That's not okay."

"And how is that any different from murder? How is me doing this any worse than what happened to Jason? But we still put another kid in a cape and send him out there because what we do makes a difference." Dick pulled his hand out of her grasp and walked away. He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. He just needed all this noise to go away, all this yelling--he was the only one yelling, but he was trying to shout down all the other thoughts in his head. Memories in Luthor's office, or arguing with himself about whether or not to tell the League, a constant back and forth, and in his indecision, ultimately doing nothing.

When he had finally calmed down enough to look at Barbara he could see she was nearing tears.

"I'm sorry--I shouldn't have brought up Jason. That wasn't fair."

She shook her head and wiped her eyes. "That's not why--" She stopped and took a deep breath. "Dick, if it were me, doing what you were doing, would you expect me to stay?"

Dick was quiet, but not because he was thinking about it. There was a loud, resounding "No" in his head. He would never let Barbara do something like this. And she made her point clearly: It was wrong of him to expect her to stand by while he did this. He still couldn't say it, so he just shook his head.

"Tell Bruce. Tonight."

He nodded and she took his hand again.

"If you need me to be there with you--"

"I'll be okay. I promise." Dick looked at her, really looked at her. He felt like he had been rubbed raw and every nerve was exposed to her. He felt more vulnerable now that he ever had in front of Luthor. And he could see she was being just as open with him right now. He gently squeezed her hand and put up one layer between them, just a gentle smile, to let her know he wasn't lying.

She accepted it, even if she didn't look happy. How could he expect her to, after that?

They walked through the rest of the manor in silence. Dick spent it thinking about how he wanted to bring all this up to Bruce. No matter how he tried to word it, he knew it was not going to be a pleasant conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to write Bat Brat banter for ever. No drama. No plot. No porn. Just Bat Brat banter.... 
> 
> Hope Babs was in-character. I wanted them to be close, but not romantic, but potentially romantic. That fine line of, "We need a DTR but we're both too afraid to have one so we're awkwardly not dating but we probably both secretly like each other." Idk, I always see young Dick and Babs that way. The awkward not-a-couple couple.
> 
> Anyway, surprise third chapter. I didn't think I'd need to write the JL fall out from all this, with Dick telling Bruce and all that, but yeah, I guess I do. So, one more chapter you can look forward to. (at least I hope you look forward to it.)


	3. Falling Without a Net

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Healing starts with cookies and ice cream.

"Why didn't you include this in your reports to the League?"

Dick swallowed hard. He sat on the small couch in the lounge and Bruce stood before the unlit fireplace. Dick wished Bruce would look at him, give him some sort of clue about what he was thinking. It was hard enough saying things at all, and much more to the expressionless back of a man he was so afraid to disappoint.

Dick shifted in his seat, trying to think of a way to explain it to Bruce. "I didn't want you to pull me out. And it--it didn't start bad or anything. It just--"

"Dick."

He stopped rambling and slumped his shoulders. He buried his head in his hands, trying to hide and suppress the emotions that were crashing over the protective walls that Bruce had taught him to construct since he was a boy. Walls that were for defense against others as much as a defense for himself.

"Did you think if you told us, we would pull you out?"

"Yes," he said softly, his voice weak.

"And you didn't want that."

"I didn't--I didn't want to fail. It was a job, and--"

"Dick."

He swallowed again, shoving back the torrent of emotions. He knew Bruce was trying to get him to think logically. He knew Bruce was trying to restore those safety nets, but Babara had torn them all away and he felt like he was falling. He needed to know someone was going to catch him.

He felt Bruce's hand on his shoulder, but he didn't look up. Couldn't look up.

"You made a choice in the field. However, you did so without consulting with the League, even though you had adequate time to do so. Do you think we wouldn't have listened to your argument?"

Now Dick looked up. His surprise was able to hold everything else at bay and he could, for a minute, face Bruce. "You wouldn't have pulled me out? You would've let me finish the mission?"

"We would have asked what you wanted and taken your decision into account. Do you understand?"

Dick suddenly felt small, smaller than he'd ever felt in his life. Smaller than the boy at the top of a trapeze platform, reaching for a hand that he knew he couldn't catch. He felt stupid, weak, helpless. And he understood. If he had taken the whole situation to the League in the beginning, they would've known when it got worse. They would've been able to help him gauge what was too much--He wouldn't have been alone. He wouldn't have had to have the arguments by himself in his head. He could have talked to Bruce about it, to Clark, even Diana. And as hard as that sounded, it would have been far easier than doing it alone.

"I'm--I'm sorry," he choked out, and buried his face in his hands again, trying to hide the tears he couldn't hold back anymore. "I just thought--I could do it, and I didn't want you to know, to be in that position. I wanted you to--"

"Dick."

He stopped speaking, but he couldn't stop crying. He felt Bruce's hand squeeze his shoulder. Dick took in a deep breath, counted to four, and let it out while counting to six. He took in another, held for six, and let it out slowly, to the count of eight. Another, hold for eight, let out to ten.

It was a little rhythm Bruce had taught him, to fight down anger, fear, sorrow, or any combination thereof. And it wasn't much, but it was all he had. And thinking about breathing for a minute, nothing but breathing, gave him that one minute to help rebuild his walls, or at least a part of them.

"I'm going to talk to the League, and take them the information you've gathered. Barbara and Tim will go on patrol, and you're going to stay here tonight."

"I should be in Metropolis--"

"We'll talk about it tomorrow."

"I have to go back to work on Monday. I can't just--I can't just not show up."

"The League will make a decision about that."

"I thought you said you'd take my decision into account."

"I will tell them what you've said tonight. For now, rest. Alfred will have your old room ready."

Dick stayed seated, head in his hands, as Bruce went through the bookcase to the cave below. He sat for hours afterwards. Maybe it was something learned from Bruce, that ridiculous habit of brooding. But somehow, sitting alone, listening to nothing but the clock on the mantle tick quietly, was helpful. The clock was something solid, something stable to keep him grounded while his mind and body sorted through the last few months, pointing out to him his mistakes and berating him for both not telling Bruce sooner but also for telling Bruce and Barbara at all.

It was, in fact, hours later when he finally stood up, stretched his stiff arms, and walked out of the room to the main staircase. Alfred caught him before he got halfway up.

"Master Dick," he said, and Dick reluctantly turned around. Alfred was in his robes, but looked like he hadn't gone to bed yet. Dick felt bad. He was sure Alfred had been waiting up for him. "It's nearly midnight. Do you need a snack or anything before bed?"

Alfred knew him way too well. Any other night, he would've asked for a full ice cream sundae. But not tonight.

"I'm okay. Thanks."

"There's a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies still cooling."

Dick hesitated, then nodded and walked back down the stairs. "Thanks, Alfred."

Together, they headed for the kitchen. Dick smelled the cookies before he saw them, and even though he didn't have an appetite, the smell stimulated his metabolism and his stomach grumbled.

Alfred opened up the freezer and took out a carton of ice cream.

Dick peeled a warm cookie off of the baking sheet. "You know me too well."

"I do believe I've developed something of a mother's intuition, raising you over the years."

Dick managed a smile as he scooped some of the ice cream onto his warm cookie. He shoved it all into his mouth in one bite. Alfred handed him a napkin.

Dick had worried that Alfred would pry, ask questions, and he'd have to rehash everything the way he had for Bruce and Barbara. But Alfred didn't ask any questions. Maybe Bruce had told him not to, or maybe Bruce had already told him everything. Dick stomach twisted at that thought, but he stuffed down another cookie anyway. If anything could make him feel better, it would have to start with Alfred's cookies.

Alfred did most of the talking. About how weather had been in Gotham, about how Tim was fitting in with Bruce, about everything Dick had missed in the last few months. Within an hour, Alfred got him to laugh, his first real laugh in a long time.

"Do you remember," Alfred said, "the old painting of the woman in black that used to hang in the upstairs hallway?"

"It's not there anymore?"

"No." Alfred smiled. "Barbara wanted to Tim to practice outside the sparring ring, on a more realistic terrain. He threw a batarang down the hallway and sliced right through the woman's face."

And Dick couldn't hold it in. It started in his chest, and he tried to hold it back, but it burst right out. "God, I hated that picture. Good riddance. I used to make faces at her. She looked so stern."

A smile lingered on Dick's face as he finished off his ice cream and reached for a fourth cookie. Maybe Alfred was using that intuition good parents have, but he didn't care so much what had Dick upset as he did about getting Dick over that mountain. And Dick appreciated it whole-heartedly.

Alfred stayed up with him, just talking. Sharing memories he had of Dick when he was small. Dick filled in with his own stories of boyhood as he thought of them.

It was about four-thirty in the morning when Barbara and Tim came back from patrol. They looked exhausted, but perked up when they saw dessert.

All three of them fell asleep together in the kitchen, heads on the table. No one seemed to want to go to bed. Barbara fell asleep first, then eventually Dick's eyes closed, and finally Tim just didn't pick his head back up off the table.

Sometime, after the sun was up, Dick smelled coffee. But he wasn't awake enough to get up. He didn't want to be that awake, not yet. He stayed in the chair, head buried in his arms, but he could hear whispered words, like they were part of a dream.

"We'll take a weekend ski trip starting today," Bruce was saying. "He'll need to be hospitalized from an injury. That can keep him out of the office for a few weeks, while we arrange something to get him out permanently."

"Are you sure he'll be alright with that?" Alfred asked.

"It doesn't matter. It's the decision we all agreed on. Dick has no reason to go back there."

"And how are you doing?"

"What does that mean? I'm fine," Bruce replied quickly.

There was a long pause. Dick almost fell back asleep completely, but Bruce's voice brought him back.

"I should've known Luthor would pull something like this. We should've known. It's more than likely it was a tool for manipulation more than anything else. Luthor's not one for relationships. Clark thinks he wanted something from Dick Grayson, but we're not sure what. I'll have to go through everything at Wayne Enterprises, make sure he didn't take anything somehow."

"That isn't what I asked."

There was another long pause. Dick drifted off, but came back to hear the end of whatever Bruce had been saying.

"...as he knows it's not his fault. He doesn't need that sort of guilt on his conscience."

It sounded like the conversation was done at that point. Dick heard a door close. He didn't know if one left or both left, and he didn't dare look. He felt someone drape a blanket over his shoulders. It wasn't enough to tell who, but it was enough to remind him that here was home. And here, no matter how much he fucked up, were people who cared about him. And that, for now, was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow an excuse for porn turned into a full fic. This was my first Batfam fic, so I hope you enjoyed it. I have so much fun writing these characters.


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